


All work and no play.

by valiantfindekano



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 05:19:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4250826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valiantfindekano/pseuds/valiantfindekano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winter-themed Celebrimbor & Annatar that no one asked for. Vaguely shippy, vaguely sinister because it's Annatar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All work and no play.

It had been an unusually bleak winter.

There were shipments of food still arriving from both the north and the south, for which Celebrimbor was grateful, though he was less grateful that he was obligated to check the accounts and give statements on how much ought to be stored and where it should be stored and who ought to be keeping it. A hundred years ago, Lordship was a tempting option, but now he privately held that it would have been better suited to Celeborn after all--not least because a busy man was a man who had little time to be irksome.

At least the crystalline snowflakes were a pleasant distraction. They fell fat and heavy on the marble streets, but Celebrimbor stepped carefully; they had not gathered together, and the paths were damp and slippery.

For that reason, it was surprising when Annatar stepped silently into place beside him. Whether the thick snow had muffled the sounds of the city, or whether the sound-makers had retreated behind their doors to defrost before their hearths, footsteps should have been audible still. The smith scowled, though the expression was good-natured in intention. 

“I thought you had burrowed down into Hadhodrond like a rabbit.” Annatar was a creature of fire. In the summer he seemed to radiate with warmth like Anar, but it was not summer, and his guest (if he could still call him that) exuded an aura of discomfort. Now he reminded Celebrimbor of a once-hot rod of iron, feebly glowing dark-red. That was the colour of the robes he had chosen for today, which aided the comparison in the elf’s mind. 

Annatar had in the meantime grown more adept at smiling at the right moment. He smiled now. “I am craftier,” he promised. “Like a fox; not its prey.”

“Foxes are playful,” Celebrimbor deadpanned.

For a second, he worried that he had somehow offended the other with his comment—Annatar stopped short, and after another two paces, Celebrimbor stopped as well. Turning, though, he found a curious expression on Annatar’s face, but it was not there that his gaze was directed—it was towards his mentor’s hands. With the right, Annatar’s fingers traced shapes in the air in front of him, and around the palm of his left hand, flakes of snow gathered. They spiraled around one another, growing closer and closer to form a white sphere. 

Transfixed, Celebrimbor did not move quick enough to dodge the snowball when it suddenly flew from Annatar’s hand and onto the side of his face, bursting against his jaw and sending flecks of ice under the collar of his robe. A curse dropped from Celebrimbor’s lips—something in Khuzdul to the effect of ‘spawn of a goat’—but Annatar’s hands were already brushing the snow from his shoulder before he could raise his own, the distance between them closed up in two short strides.

“Is that not how the children play?” Annatar asked softly. 

It took Celebrimbor a moment to find his voice. “They use the work of their hands, not spells,” he protested. Curiosity had the better of him after a moment, however. It always did. “Those symbols; would you teach me? What magic is that?”

Annatar’s touch was lingering, though the worst of the snow had left. Celebrimbor would blame the drip of frigid water running down his neck for the shiver that spread across his shoulders. “It is a binding charm,” Annatar answered, “and it has more practical uses than child’s play. Finish your accounts, and I will show you.”


End file.
